Blood or Iron?
by Depp's-Still-Doll
Summary: I know it's late in the game with TWO episodes left, but here's how I think the last battle will go down! Daenerys is struggling to figure out not only how to take the Iron throne from Cersei, but also who to trust and what she really wants. With the odds not so much in her favor, she has to put all her faith in herself.
1. Preparation

_A/N: SPOILER ALERT! Okay, so with two more episodes left, I need to make this fast, so it might not be as long and detailed as I'm usually eager to do, but I wanted to get my predictions out there for the end of Game of Thrones Season 8 and the TV series as a whole. We already saw The Long Night, where our heroes stood against Death itself at the Battle of Winterfell and Arya defeated the Night King. Now here's my prediction for the Last War!_

_A/N2: This has been UPDATED from it's original post! I forgot about Davos Seaworth, and I rearranged some things to make the planning a little smoother. Politics and war are not my strong suit lol_

Daenerys stormed away from Cersei with murder in her eyes and fire in her veins. Tyrion rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she planned to do. Not even his clever words could cut through Cersei's heart of stone. Daenerys had trusted him for the last time.

She held back tears. She had loved Messandei like a sister, but they had precious little time to plan their next move. She commanded the Unsullied to follow her back, but Greyworm lingered, staring at the bloody mess that was Messandei. Daenerys stopped, turned, and repeated the order. Greyworm looked back at her with glassy eyes and a tense jaw. She telegraphed with her eyes that now was not the time for tears. If they could not save Messandei, they would avenge her.

They returned to Dragonstone where Jon and the rest of the armies had been stationed for the surrender negotiation. Daenerys knew her men were depleted and exhausted after the Long Night, the Dothraki were almost entirely decimated, and she was down to only one dragon. A part of her was upset that Rhaegall had fallen and Jon could no longer fly with her, but a part of her wanted her to be the only one to ride, the chosen one, special. It was only her and Drogon now, named for her late beloved husband. She stroked his scaly cheek, not wanting to risk his life in the upcoming battle, but knowing he was the key advantage they had. Now that Cersei had reinforcements and multiple Scorpions lining the ramparts, the upcoming war was leveled, perhaps the scales had even tipped the other direction.

No. Daenerys was meant to sit on the iron throne. She could feel it in the fire in her blood, burning with every beat of her heart. She would claim the iron throne for House Targaryen. But Cersei wasn't her only competition. The man she loved, her supposed nephew, also had claim, though he insisted he didn't want the title or the responsibility. The people loved him, she couldn't deny it. He was humble, did what was right, and that's why she fell for him. He was a good man. She would kill for him, but would she give up her life long dream for him? Killing was certainly easier, especially with a dragon at your side.

In the conference room, Jon, Ser Davos, Tyrion, Varys and Greyworm stood, ready to counsel and receive orders. They could tell from Daenerys' hard expression that the meeting would not go well.

"We need to attack. What's our best strategy?" she asked, not wasting any time.

Varys looked wary, but Tyrion stepped forward. "If I may, Your Grace, I-"

"No, you may not," she said coolly.

"Forgive me, I beg your pardon?"

"You shall have your pardon," she responded. "I pardon you of all your responsibilities. This is the third time you have thought you could outsmart your sister, and this is the third time you have failed. You are no longer fit to be called the Hand of the Queen."

Everyone in the room froze, looking around. Tyrion cleared his throat. "Now, let's not be too hasty. We need to think. Cersei is already three steps ahead of us, we need to-"

"Precisely. She is three steps ahead of us because we gave her a chance to be. Your so-called brilliant mind has caused us to lose one of my greatest advisors and friend. It is time to retire in honor...while you still have the chance." Daenerys held out her hand, waiting for the dwarf to hand over the pin.

Tyrion fingered it, unwilling to give it up. He pried it from his vest and laid it in her pale hand. "May I ask what all this entails?" he asked, hanging his head.

Daenerys looked around the room. Varys' eyes were wide and glued to her every movement. Jon was bewildered, but seemed to show some sympathy for the small man. Daenerys considered her options. Tyrion had indeed been faithful to her, albeit a little overconfident. He truly believed in her, so she couldn't very well banish him. Even if she did, she wondered if he would go back to Cersei and tell her just how vulnerable she was. She swallowed hard, wanting him to pay for his incompetence, but she knew she needed him on her side.

"I am not banishing you. You may continue to serve me as my subject, but I believe the title of Hand should go to someone a bit more qualified."

She surveyed the four men in front of her, each with their strengths. Ser Davos was already Hand to Jon, and Greyworm had enough on his plate as Head Commander of the Unsullied, as well as dealing with his grief over Messandei. It was between Varys and Jon Snow...or should she say Aegon?

"Varys," she said, approaching him with the pin. "You have served me well over the years."

The Spider seemed stunned. "Wh-why, yes, I have, Your Grace."

"You know more about the world than any one else, know my enemies as well as my allies. You will be my Hand and lead us to victory." She secured the pin on his robe as his mouth hung open. "Is it not common for eunuchs to serve as Hands?"

"Commonalities aside, I had not considered serving as Hand. A simple advisor on the council, perhaps. This is a great responsibility," Varys said with a pointed look towards Tyrion. The dwarf met his gaze with a wary expression.

"Do you accept?"

Above all, Varys served the realm. Tyrion warned him with his eyes not to betray Daenerys. Varys glanced at the small pin on his chest, debating his acceptance. He surely had a role to play, but he was The Spider. His way of serving up to this point had been collecting information, hiding behind the scenes. Being Hand was much more public and much more serious. What would best serve the realm? He knew who he wanted to rule, but he knew with even more certainty who should _not _be on the iron throne.

"I accept," he said...if only to defeat Cersei. He would play his part until it was over. Varys looked to Jon, who seemed somewhat disappointed and confused.

"Do not disappoint me," Daenerys warned.

"Never, Your Grace," Varys replied, bowing at the waist.

"You are dismissed," she said over her shoulder to Tyrion. He nodded and left with his head low. When the door clicked shut, she got straight back to business. "What is our best course of action?"

"Well," Varys began. "I am not typically a man of war, and you've just excused the one person with extensive knowledge of the place."

Daenerys rolled her eyes, already regretting her decision. "I need to know how to defeat them. I only have one dragon against how many of those _things_ mounted around the walls. I've lost two children; I will not lose my last!"

Ser Davos surveyed the table detailing Westeros. "Euron Greyjoy has control of the sea, so a naval advance would be futile. We found that out the hard way."

"Don't remind me," Daenerys muttered.

Jon shifted, wanting to comfort her, but it felt wrong. This wasn't the time, and he still had to come to terms with his own identity.

"My Queen," Greyworm interjected. "They do not know how many we have. Let the Unsullied and Westerosi armies attack head on with the Dothraki coming in from behind."

"It's still a fortress, not an ambush in the woods," Jon pointed out. "It'll only take longer."

"Shall we ask the local fortress expert?" Varys suggested. "Perhaps someone who knows the castle well could tell us of a way to sneak in without murdering all those innocents she's packed into the walls, similar to our siege on Casterly Rock."

Her nostrils flared as she sneered. She hated that she needed Tyrion. "Greyworm, fetch him."

"Yes, My Queen," he complied, exiting and returning a few minutes later with the dwarf.

"You are in need of my assistance?" the small man asked with a smirk.

Daenerys glared at him. "All is not forgiven. However, I can see that I am at a disadvantage. Is there a way to get into the castle without going through the innocent?"

"Hmmm... Funny you should ask. Though I was not in charge of the sewer systems, for the Red Keep is much older, I do seem to remember a tunnel from my youth," he said, examining King's Landing on the map. "The entrance is located within the sandstone walls between the Red Keep and the Iron Gate. The tunnel will take you up into the dungeons, avoiding all the riff raff."

"I'll give you one last chance to prove yourself, Lord Tyrion," Daenerys warned. "Lead the Dothraki through the tunnel unseen an hour before dawn. Take out as many guards on the inside as possible, as silently as you can for as long as you can manage. I want to save my people. How many do we have?" she asked Greyworm.

"Thirty, My Queen."

"Each Dothraki warrior is as good as ten Westerosi soldiers," Daenerys reminded herself and everyone else. "With a thousand Unsullied and those fighting for Jon, we should be fine."

"Shall I remind you that Queen Cersei has the Golden Company at her disposal?" added Varys.

"She is no Queen here," she snapped at him. "You'll do well to remember that."

"Yes, Your Grace," he nodded.

"The Golden Company will fall just like the Lannisters, erased from the history books. Are there any other questions or concerns?" she asked.

She looked around the room. Tyrion seemed pleased with himself. Varys was satisfied. Greyworm looked ready to march immediately. Jon Snow remained unreadable. Ser Davos wrinkled his face and stepped forward.

"But what of the fleet?" he asked.

"I will take care of the fleet."

"But, Your Grace-"

She stepped forward, furious he was questioning her. She slammed her hand next to the tiny figures in Blackwater Bay. "All of the Greyjoy ships will be there defending the city. If I can swing out over The Narrow Sea without being detected, I should be able to sneak up behind Massey's Hook and burn the fleet, just like he snuck up on us." Davos looked impressed.

The door opened unexpectedly, and they all turned to the intruder, Jon and Greyworm drawing their swords. In the doorway stood a very tall man with long, stringy hair and a mutilated face. He was with a small girl with a serious expression.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked the girl, lowering his weapon.

Yes, Daenerys had seen them before at the Battle of Winterfell. The panic of the next war had her mind scrambled. Jon's sister, Arya, and her friend, The Hound.

"We have some unfinished business," Arya said with a smirk.

"Which is?" Daenerys asked.

"I've a vendetta against Cersei," she replied casually, then pointed to her companion. "He wants The Mountain."

Daenerys considered her words. She had expected to burn Cersei alive herself and hear her screams. But how close could she get if she was on her only dragon surrounded by Scorpions? The honor of killing Cersei might have to go to someone else if Daenerys couldn't get to her. She assessed Arya head to toe. There was a healing gash on her head, but other than that, she seemed to be unscathed by their fight with Death. With word spreading quickly that Arya was the one who ultimately defeated the Night King, she seemed a formidable ally. Her friend also seemed able, and much more intimidating.

"You two may accompany Lord Tyrion and the Dothraki through a tunnel into the dungeons. You should get some rest. You move an hour before dawn," Daenerys instructed.

Arya glanced at Jon before nodding. The Hound's nod was significantly smaller.

Jon had been awfully quiet, and it was driving Daenerys mad. His brow was furrowed in thought, but he wouldn't say a word. She turned to him. "What say you, King of the North?"

"I've never fought with or against the Lannisters," he said, glancing at the others. "I know nothing about them. What I do know is that we survived The Great War. If we can get through that, then we can get through anything as long as we're together." He met her green eyes with determination.

Daenerys' heart fluttered. She knew that he meant the battle ahead, but a part of her wanted to think that they could get through this growing rift between them. If only she could rewind time or forget the words he'd said in the crypt. He was her brother's son. No, he was her true love. She had given up all hope since Khal Drogo died, resigned to life as a widow. She had her romp with Daario, but she hadn't loved him as she loved Jon. They shared a deep bond, but she tried to ignore the ties of blood.

"So it's decided," she said to snap herself out of her thoughts. "They don't know the Dothraki live, so Tyrion will lead them with Arya and The Hound through the secret tunnel an hour before dawn. The Unsullied and Northern armies will march head on at Dragon Gate to keep the enemy distracted. I'll burn the Greyjoy fleet in a surprise attack. We're all agreed?"

Everyone nodded, and she smiled, knowing how close her dream was to becoming a reality.

Later that night, Jon couldn't sleep, so he went to Dany's door and knocked. She opened it and hesitated. She wanted to run into his arms, and he wanted to scoop her up. But things were different now.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Of course," Daenerys replied the only way she could. She opened the door wider and he took a seat on the edge of her bed. She hugged herself, waiting for him to say he wanted the iron throne for himself.

"I don't know how to feel..." he said.

She could feel it coming. He was about to break up with her. The only other man she had been able to love. Daario loved her, Jorah pined for her, but she could only love Drogo and Jon. She couldn't bear the pain of losing him, by his own fault or on the battlefield. She could feel her throat tighten, as if his words were physically choking her. She held back tears.

"All my life I've been treated like horse shit. The woman who raised me didn't love me. I've been reminded I'm a bastard every single day of my miserable life. And then all of a sudden, I have another name, a true name. I don't know how to feel."

Daenerys blinked. All he wanted was someone to talk to, and here she was thinking about the end. But she had no idea how he felt. She had always known who she was. Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen. She had only ever added titles to an already prominent name in Westeros. She tried to find some sort of humility in her heart to relate to him. She had been a slave, but even then she knew who she was and broke free. "I was a prisoner once."

"Prisoner is different," Jon corrected her. "A prisoner is someone who has done something bad and is paying for their sins. A bastard is someone who's done nothing wrong, but still gets treated as something less than, as if my father's sins are my own. Even living in a noble house, I was treated like a peasant, discarded when I came of age."

"At least you weren't a thing to be traded," she muttered, staring into the fireplace as if in a trance. "I was raised with my other brother, Viserys in a nobleman's house that wasn't my own. I was sold to the Dothraki as a wife to Khal Drogo, nothing more than a bag of gold to my brother, for I was payment for an army. Viserys wouldn't stop talking about it. How he paid for the Dothraki, but they wouldn't follow him. He would make scenes, screaming how he wanted to be King, he wanted to sit on the iron throne, he wanted a golden crown."

Her scowl softened, as she remembered the night in the tent where he arrived drunk and threatened her unborn child. The way the firelight reflected off of Khal Drogo's bulging muscles and the sharp angles of his face came back to her clearer than ever. She could again see the anger burning in his dark eyes as he watched the tip of Viserys' forbidden sword. "So my husband gave him a golden crown to wear forever. It killed him. But it broke my chains."

"Breaker of Chains," he said, one of her many titles.

"I have followers like the Dothraki and Messandei-" Daenerys choked on her friend's name. "Because I freed them. I freed thousands of slaves all over Essos. They follow me not because they fear me, or because of my name. They support me because they want to, because they believe in me. Much like your people believe in you." She looked at him then, teetering on the edge of jealousy and fuzzy feelings. An odd combination.

"They believe in me because I'm a man of my word. Even if Ned Stark isn't really my father, I've always tried to live like him. He's the best man I ever knew."

She couldn't stop herself. "What would he think of me?"

He raised his chocolate eyes to meet hers. He admired her gorgeous white curls falling freely down her back, her fiery green eyes, her sweet face and pink cheeks. "He'd love you," he said. He was telling the truth, though Ned might be concerned if he knew of their "deeper" relationship. If only he had told him before Jon went off to the Wall.

Jon remembered how they parted ways, Ned heading South to King's Landing with his sisters. His father had said, "The next time we see each other, I'll tell you about your mother," but the day never came. King Joffrey made sure of that. There was a small part of Jon that would feel good knowing the mother of all evil would meet her end tomorrow.

Had he learned of his mother sooner, would it have made a difference? Would knowing his true name change the feelings in his heart that told him he would die for this woman in front of him?

For his aunt.

No.

He dismissed his own thoughts by standing and kissing her. Her lips were soft and pliable beneath his. He grabbed her arms and pulled her close, closer than the truth that hung at the edge of his mind. Dany ran her hands through his wild dark hair. He picked her up and pushed her against the wall, devouring her mouth with a ravenous hunger. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he pressed into her. He wanted her so bad, but his little friend wasn't getting the memo.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, and he bit her neck. She made a sound halfway between pleasure and pain. He felt her breasts pushing against his chest with every haggard breath. Her nails dug into him, but he didn't mind. He kissed along her collar bone, then heard her voice in his ear, "Stop."

He was sure he misheard her. "Don't stop," is what she meant to say. He nipped at her shoulder, but she said, louder, "Stop."

He pulled away from her, panting. He furrowed his brow, knowing exactly what was bothering her, the same thing that had been bothering him and keeping him up at night. "Dany, please..."

She pushed on his shoulders, and he backed up, allowing her to slide back down to the floor. He cupped her cheeks, wanting nothing more than to look at her for the rest of his life. He held back tears knowing it was wrong.

"Perhaps we can figure this out once we've won the war. We must stay focused." She was trying to convince him as well as herself.

His dark eyes searched her face for doubt, but she kept her expression controlled. "Yes, My Queen. I'm yours," he said, again telling the truth, but feeling the twist in his gut that told him he shouldn't love her.

A single tear slipped past Daenerys' defenses. She saw the earnest look in his eyes, knew he wanted her. She just couldn't figure out what she loved more: Jon or the throne. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you." Jon kissed her deeply, and she wrapped her arms around him. With a deep breath, they parted, and he went back to his own room. Daenerys closed the door and cried herself to sleep.


	2. Execution

_A/N: Just letting everyone know that I updated the last chapter. It's mostly the same. I rearranged some dialogue, got more specific after more research, and I forgot that Ser Davos is still alive! lol_

Before the sun rose, everyone was bustling, preparing for the advance. The Unsullied and Jon's banner men marched to King's Landing head on, while the Dothraki, Tyrion, Arya and the Hound took smaller boats into the fishing port before the first sun rays could spot them. They moved silently, soon finding the tunnel entrance in the sandstone walls, just as Tyrion had said.

Arya paused upon seeing the rounded hole, recognizing it from many years ago when she stayed here and followed a cat into the dungeons. She had come so far from that little girl desperately trying to impress her "dance" instructor, Syrio Forell. She touched the smooth walls, remembering the man who first taught her how to properly wield a sword, who fell trying to protect her within these walls. "Not today," she whispered to herself. Her expression hardened, and she slipped through the tunnel.

At the other end, they emptied out into the dungeons. Tyrion hadn't been back to the Red Keep in ages, but the dank smell had everything rushing back to him. He led the way down the hall, past large dragon skulls. When he was young, he could name every dragon head in any order – biggest to smallest, first to last, alphabetical – but now, after seeing one living and breathing, he felt horrible for the deaths of these majestic creatures. He let his hand graze a large tooth, almost as big as he was. He noticed Drogon wasn't as big as he thought. Balerion the Black Dread's skull made Drogon look like a dwarf. As they got nearer to the stairs, the skulls rapidly shrunk. Tyrion wondered if Drogon was ever that small, perhaps as a baby.

Now was not the time to be daydreaming. The Dothraki took out the guards at the dungeon entrance silently, and Tyrion was impressed. He took the golden cloak in his hand and whispered to the others. "Hoshor...addrivat." The only words he had learned for this mission: "Gold...Kill."

The savage Dothraki smirked. Tyrion put a finger to his lips, and they all nodded. The Hound pushed his way towards the front of the group and ascended the stairs, eager to get to his brother for some much deserved justice.

They managed to kill a lot of castle guards before the alarm was raised. Once the guards began shouting, the Dothraki let out their battle cry and viciously killed anyone who came their way. The Hound and Arya held their own, while Tyrion attempted to stay as hidden as possible in the scuffle without getting trampled. He couldn't let Cersei get word that _he_ was in the castle.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jon led his men and the Unsullied into battle, making a rukus so as to get their undivided attention. The Unsullied pounded their spears into the ground and chanted in Old Valeryian. Jon looked out at Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea, unable to see a black speck in the sky that would be Drogon and Dany. He hoped they would win The Last War. If anyone deserved to sit on the iron throne, it was Daenerys. She had done so much to get this far, he was willing to do whatever it took to make her dreams a reality.

The initial charge was brutal, several bodies flying back from the force of the Scorpions' arrows. Once they came closer to the walls, they were too close to harpoon. The guards took to their personal bows to mow down the rest. The Unsullied used their shields to block the barrage of arrows, but Jon's men did not have that luxury. Grappling hooks were hurled over the ramparts, many either missing or being immediately cut or thrown off, but they were determined to keep their focus and take as many down as they could in the process.

Some of the Unsullied were able to secure their hooks and begin climbing, all while shielding themselves from the volley of arrows. Jon's men fell in behind them, taking cover under the large shields and climbing the ropes. When the first few men got to the top, they massacred the Lannister men, creating an opening for the rest. Things were starting to look up.

* * *

Cersei stayed in her bedroom, far away from the fighting. She sipped a cup of wine while watching the men on the far wall hold back Daenerys' army. She felt invincible, her new lover defending her from the shore, the Golden Company stationed along the walls, and her own King's Guard defending the castle from the frightened riff raff.

"Your Grace," came the old voice of Maester Qyburn from the door.

"What is it?" Cersei snapped.

"The public is pounding on the doors, begging you let them in."

"Absolutely not," she said, setting her cup down on the table. "Did I not instruct you to leave me alone unless it was an emergency?"

"Well, yes..."

"Then I will hear no more of this."

"You see, Your Grace, your people aren't the only ones who want inside," he explained. "Savages and a few randoms seem to have snuck in and are quickly tearing through the place."

Cersei's eyes glinted with fear, though she refused to let any weakness show. "Savages and randoms? Shouldn't the King's Guard more than equipped to handle it?"

"These aren't just any savages. It's the Dothraki Jaime warned us about."

"Do not speak that traitor's name in my presence," Queen Cersei spat. "He left us."

"About that..." Qyburn began.

"What is it now?" she yelled, losing her patience.

"He's here."

Cersei froze, not knowing how to respond. Why was he back after abandoning her? What could he possibly say that would change her mind?

Before she could object to his presence, he came into the room. "I had to warn you!"

"Grand Maester, please leave us," she said in a controlled tone. He left, and she faced her twin brother, one of the very few things she had ever loved. She didn't know how to take him being here. She stared at him, sweaty, dirty, and glorious.

"Cersei," he said, approaching her. He knelt at her feet, pleading with his eyes. "I tried to warn you, but they attacked quicker than I expected."

"Why are you here?"

Jaime blinked. "Because I'm yours."

"Then why did you leave me?" she asked, standing and going over to her window, her back to him.

He came to stand behind her. "You know how this goes. We piss each other off, we get mad, we get back together." He brushed his lips against her neck, enjoying the smell of her. "It's been like that for as long as I can remember. We always come back to each other."

She shoved him off and walked away. "You abandoned me."

"You threatened me!" Jaime accused. "All because I said something you didn't want to hear. And now look, the very men I tried warning you about are in your palace and about half the King's Guard is already dead!"

"I don't care! I will win this war. They're weakened from fighting snarks."

"Wights," he corrected.

She looked at him, the pieces fitting together. "You helped them."

"Yes, I did," Jaime admitted. "For you! For our child! It's a miracle we survived."

"They should've killed every last one of you," Cersei said with a sneer.

"And then all of us would've come for you as an unstoppable undead army."

"I don't care. I would let the whole world burn if it meant safety for me and my loved ones."

"Am I not your loved one anymore?" Jaime asked, stepping closer to her. He grabbed her hands, searched her hateful face. She was so beautiful when she was angry.

Cersei's eyes darted toward the bay, then down. She felt the weight in her stomach, her own little one. What did fathers matter when they left you for war and whored around while they're away? It was as she said to Joffrey before his untimely death. "Anyone who isn't us is our enemy." She would give her own life just to see him smile again, her beautiful baby boy, who looked so much like the man in front of her. She wanted to give into him. He was her brother, her twin, her lover for life.

But she couldn't. He had abandoned her once, she wouldn't let him do it again. Who knows what happened in the North? What lies had he heard? The only one she could trust was herself. She had to protect her baby at any cost, even from its own father. "I love only my children."

Jaime glanced at her stomach, which barely showed signs of pregnancy. "It's my child!"

"And you abandoned it when you abandoned me," she quipped.

"Cersei, don't do this..."

"I'm Queen, I can do whatever I want...or whomever I want." She let her words sink in with a smirk on her lips.

Jaime blinked a few times, processing everything. He couldn't believe Cersei was doing this. He had thought he knew her. She was even more hateful than he remembered. The long nights in the North must have messed with his head. "If you do this, I won't be able to protect you."

"I don't need your protection."

He took a couple slow steps back, still looking at her grim face and hoping she would change her mind. She always was fickle. But no, her expression stayed hard and emotionless, and he was forced the leave the room.

* * *

Daenerys bent low on Drogon's neck, swinging far out over the Narrow Sea so as not to be detected by Euron's ships. In the distance, she saw the shores of Essos, and she thought about all the slaves she had freed, all the masters she had killed. She though of Daario Naharis, who she left in Mareen to govern the people until a democracy was created. She missed her nights with him, but he never held her heart like Khal Drogo...or Jon.

Jon was never far from her thoughts when she wasn't with him. She wondered how he and his men were doing, facing off against the Lannisters while they hid behind walls. She could almost imagine the wind pushing her hair out of her face was Jon's hand. He was so sweet last night, coming to talk to her in a moment of weakness. His lips had been rough and hot against her, but she couldn't stop hearing his voice in her head, "My real name is Aegon Targaryen."

If Sam had just kept his mouth shut, if Jon would've kept silent, if only they could all forget the whole thing. Her heart skipped a beat when a thought crossed her mind: What if Jon has already breached the walls and claimed the iron throne for himself? Her blood boiled at the thought of the betrayal.

Drogon screeched, glancing back at her. He sensed her unrest. She stroked his neck, guiding him to swoop around towards Tarth.

She wondered if Tyrion had successfully entered the Red Keep. The sun was rising fast, and she had a throne to claim. Drogon dipped low as he approached Massey's Hook that separated them from Blackwater Bay. No giant arrows were flying, so they hadn't been spotted.

Daenerys closed her eyes, listening for anything that would give her an idea of what they were up against. She heard the distant cries of battle against the gates, the screams of the panicked citizens, the crashing waves below, the slow flapping of Drogon's wings as he held their position behind the rock formation. She took a deep breath. "Dracarys."

Drogon rose up and blasted fire down on Euron's ships. They scrambled to turn their ship Scorpions, as they had expected a head-on attack. Drogon swooped low, frying more ships, then darted to the Kingswood to turn around. Arrows flew around her, but she remembered Tyrion's advice: A moving target is harder to hit.

Drogon dove at the ships again, weaving around them and burning them all. An arrow slashed his wing, and he cried out in pain. It took a little more effort to escape them on the open sea. She made Drogon fly up and out of range. She turned to face them, using the rising sun as a shield. Another deep breath, and Drogon dove again, frying the Greyjoys. Daenerys pulled up just before Drogon crashed into the wall. He seemed to slither directly up, destroying a Scorpion before flying into the air. One down, dozens more to go, but it was a start. Those damned contraptions were Cersei's only defense against her dragon, and she had plenty of time to mount two at each gate and several more along the wall. Too high for the arrows, she surveyed King's Landing. As powerful as Drogon was, he wasn't enough for all of them. If only Euron hadn't snuck up on them and gotten Rhaegall. For once, Daenerys questioned the likelihood of her success.

* * *

Tyrion was still hiding amidst the Dothraki as they mowed down any gold cloaks who stood in their way. He was pushed out of the scuffle into open air, and immediately crawled to the nearest hiding place. Not fast enough, though, because one guard saw him. "It's the dwarf!"

Tyrion looked over his shoulder at the man charging at him. A stranger's sword caught him in the throat, and blood gurgled out of his mouth. He collapsed to the floor, dead. He looked to the wielder. "Jaime!"

"What are you doing here?" his older brother asked, helping him to his feet.

"What does it look like?"

"I would say a siege, but you don't seem to be helping much," he said, killing another Lannister guard.

"I never was one for combat, no matter how many times I've been forced into the situation," the little man explained, inching towards the stairs from whence Jaime came. "How's our sister?"

Jaime sliced another guard's throat open. "You have to ask? I'm on your side, now, obviously."

"You'll do well not to change your mind," Tyrion warned. "I know how you love her."

"She doesn't love me," Jaime muttered, plunging his sword hilt-deep into yet another guard. This was becoming quick work.

"Only her children," Tyrion concluded. Jaime didn't answer, just kept cutting down his own guards, protecting Tyrion. If Cersei knew, she'd have his head. "I'm going to try to talk to her."

"No," Jaime said, swinging around to look at his little brother. "If you go up there, you'll be dead."

"You survived," Tyrion pointed out, slipping up the stairs.

"But she _really _hates you!" Jaime called, but Tyrion was long gone.

* * *

When Jon heard Drogon over by the Red Keep, he knew Dany was safe and destroying Euron's fleet. He fought harder, knowing his Queen was getting some fiery action. He urged his men ever upwards, no matter how many times they were thwarted.

Once men were on the wall, they ran in both directions, mowing down whatever guards they came up against. Cersei was well prepared, which made Jon uneasy. He looked around at the ramparts, each turret topped with a deadly Scorpion, two atop each of the seven gates. He worried for Drogon and Dany, but he knew the best way to help was to get everyone on the wall. As long as he didn't hear any anguished dragon cries, he couldn't worry about her.

He tried to ascend the wall behind an Unsullied with Ser Davos. One guard loosed an arrow, aiming for Jon. At the last second, Davos Seaworth moved to take it in the chest.

"No!" Jon screamed.

Davos slipped, but Jon held him up. "We can still make it."

Blood bubbled in the older man's throat. "Go...My King."

Jon stared at him, at the blood leaking out the corner of his mouth. All his words of wisdom that had gotten them this far echoed in Jon's head as he realized the truth of the situation. He held back tears as he let go of his faithful advisor, his limp body falling to the ground below.

* * *

Cersei's back was to the door as she gazed out the window, drinking her wine more hastily now that Jaime had visited. She couldn't believe that traitor even had the nerve to show his face. She gripped her goblet so hard, she was almost afraid of breaking it. The door opened behind her, and she sighed. "What is it now?"

"Hello, sister," came another familiar voice.

Cersei whipped around. "What are you doing in here, you monster? Didn't Maester Qyburn lock the door?"

"He did, but I convinced him to unlock it."

Her face was doubtful as she set down her cup. "Get out."

"Please, listen."

She turned away. "I will not listen to your clever words. You thought you could manipulate me into surrendering to that whore. You don't know me at all. I would die before I give up my throne."

"Even with your baby at stake?"

She grabbed at her stomach. "Don't you talk about it! You've never had children. You don't know what it's like to love someone so wholeheartedly that your own well being means nothing."

"I do," he said calmly, sitting down at the table and pouring a glass of wine for himself.

"Liar! You know nothing of a mother's love."

"Oh, but I've seen it. Cersei, may I ask you something?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms.

Regardless, he continued. "Do you want your child to be born?"

"Of course," she said without hesitation, pink rushing to her cheeks. "Not even in this world yet, and still, I love it. I would do anything for him...or her."

"Then please, I beg you, surrender now, while you can. Before too many die. You're losing a lot of good men."

"I would lose everything if it meant a good life for my child."

"Then surrender," he insisted.

She sneered and leaned into his mangled face. "Never. You win. Or you die. There is no middle ground."

"Cersei, please, listen to reason."

She grabbed a golden letter opener from the desk and brandished it at him. It was dull, yes, but with enough pressure, it would break skin. She wanted it to hurt. "Get out," she growled, pressing it against his neck.

He stood carefully and backed up a few steps. "No need to point."

She waved it like a sword above her head, charging at him and chasing him out of the room. "OUT!"

Tyrion ran to the door and shut it. The tip of the letter opener pierced through the wood.

* * *

Daenerys charged at the fleet again, Drogon's wing clipping the masts of a couple ships as he weaved through them. He turned around at the Kingswood again. Only a dozen ships were left. Euron was at the very front of the bay, frantically swiveling his Scorpion. As Drogon dived again, Daenerys kept her eyes fixed on Euron. He would pay for killing her son.

Drogon breathed fire along the length of the bay, torching most of the remaining ships. Daenerys' shout of celebration was short lived as one of the Scorpion's atop the Red Keep fired and pierced Drogon's shoulder. He screeched in pain and tried to fly away, but another arrow pierced his side, cutting into his lungs. His cries grew weaker, but he managed to knock the Scorpion off the turret with his tail as he flailed. Daenerys willed him to fly up higher to get away, but he was too weak. The shots had done their job.

Drogon tumbled into the wall, sending that section crumbling. Terrified screams of the people inside echoed inside her head, but all she could focus on was the dying Dragon beneath her. "Stay with me, Drogon. It's okay, you'll be okay."

He took a long breath, looking up at her with his red eyes. He exhaled, seeming to deflate, and closed his eyes.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" She cried, her wails echoing around King's Landing, almost as loud as her monstrous dragons.

Jon Snow heard her from the other side just as he reached the top of the wall and immediately knew what had happened. Drogon was dead. They no longer had the major advantage. The tables had turned. Now it was up to the people to kill each other or surrender.

* * *

It was nearly midday; the sun was high in the sky. Some of the Unsullied and Jon's banner men had gotten to the top of the walls, and they were making their way around the perimeter. Progress was slow, but it was still progress.

Inside the Red Keep, the battle was evenly matched. The Dothraki numbers were dwindling due to their lack of armor, but they all managed to take gold cloaks down with them. A few of each remained, along with the Lannister brothers. Arya and The Hound made their way up the stairs to Cersei's chambers, where Qyburn and The Mountain stood guard.

Cersei was still safe and sound in her room, having called the remaining King's Guard to her chamber door. She was smiling after watching the dragon go down. It was sweet to hear the Targaryen's wails. The sound of crushed dreams. She drank the last of her wine, content.

Daenerys was still weeping, hiding in the folds of her dead dragon's wings to avoid her own death. But would it have been so bad? As she looked at her lifeless dragon, the one she raised, she thought death might be a welcome embrace.

Just when she thought she would never get the throne, she heard a strange cry. Drogon? No, he was silent next to her. The sound came from farther away. She looked up at the sky, seeing nothing but clouds and sunlight. Euron heard it too, finally letting go of his giant crossbow to search for the strange shriek. He looked into the sun, shielding his eyes, which then grew wide with terror.

The outline of a dragon appeared against the blinding brightness of the sun, then it dove straight for him. Euron scurried to get into place, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the monstrous outline that only got bigger and bigger.

Daenerys watched with awe as this strange dragon swooped down and swallowed Euron Greyjoy in one gulp, destroying the bow of the ship with his massive jaw. He was almost as big as Drogon!

Everyone stopped to watch the mysterious fourth dragon as it bashed its tail against the wall, knocking down more Scorpions. It breathed fire upon the Golden Company lining the walls away from Jon's group. Daenerys smiled up at her new friend, and tried calling him. He circled back around and landed next to her and Drogon, safely out of reach of the nearest crossbow.

"Where did you come from?" she asked, grateful.

The dragon sniffed Drogon's dead body and nudged it with his nose, letting out a low whine.

"Are you...?" She looked at Drogon, then back at the stranger. This one was a deep red with orange frills. It lowered its head to see her better. She looked him right in his red eyes. This was Drogon's baby.

He allowed her to climb onto his back, and when he did, he let out a bellowing cry. More screeches were heard in the distance, and the dragon she now called Aerys for her father flew up into the air. Two more dragons swooped in, one orange with red frills and the other black with orange frills. Daenerys smiled, the Grandmother of dragons, and urged them forward.

The citizens of King's Landing had crowded around the Red Keep, away from the walls, so she had no problem blasting the ramparts with fire. As she neared the Dragon Gate, she pulled up. Aerys let out a roar of encouragement.

Jon looked up at Dany, atop a new dragon, and smiled. The second turn of the tides empowered him and the rest of his men to fight harder, slaughtering the Golden Company.

* * *

When Cersei heard the far off dragon cries, she had assumed it was the dragon's pitiful dying breath. She smiled, loving how the big and powerful beast fell to a few iron arrows.

When the cries grew louder, though, she looked out her window again. A red and orange dragon she hadn't seen swooped down, taking out the last of the ships.

"No!" Cersei shrieked.

The door opened a third time, and she was ready to kill whoever interrupted her, especially if it was one of those traitorous brothers. She swung around, coming face to face with Qyburn.

"Where did that other dragon come from?" she demanded.

He seemed shocked, as if he missed the massive creature. "I do not know, Your Grace."

"That's it," she decided, storming at the door. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

"My Queen, no!" Qyburn said, standing between her and the door. "The enemies are just outside the door. It is not safe."

"I don't care who's there. I will destroy everyone who stands in my way."

She pushed past him, then felt a pain in her stomach. She looked down, and a dagger was deep inside her, surrounded by blood. Cersei looked at her trusted advisor, loathing in her eyes. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but he ripped out the beautiful blade and plunged it into her again.

"That was for my father," Qyburn said.

Cersei's eyebrows knit in confusion.

He stabbed her again. "That's for my mother."

Cersei fell to her knees, every erratic beat of her heart pouring more blood on the floor.

He stabbed her in the chest. "That's for Robb." He paused just long enough to scratch his chin and pull his own face off. Staring down at Queen Cersei was none other than Arya Stark.

Cersei tried to scream for help, but Arya stabbed her in the throat. "That's for Sansa." She stabbed Cersei over and over, for everything that was her fault, for bringing someone as evil as Joffrey into the world. Never again. She fisted her blond hair, holding her up so Cersei could see her face as she died. Her face was twisted in a hateful scowl, her mouth half open in a vain attempt to call for help. Arya watched as the Queen's eyes became unfocused and her body went limp.

Arya let her fall, and she stood. She went back to the door, where The Hound and The Mountain had been left dueling. The Hound elbowed his brother's helmet off, who came at him with his hands, trying to strangle him. Their swords had been forgotten on the floor. Arya picked one up and threw it to The Hound.

He grabbed it and swung, managing to cut one of his purple hands off. The Mountain didn't even cry out in pain as blood spurted from his wrist. He charged his younger brother, who darted out of the way and sent him to the floor with a blow to the back of his head. The Mountain landed with a loud thud, flipping around just in time for The Hound to plunge the sword into his eye. The Mountain's remaining hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat. Arya moved to help him, but he warned her to stay back. He pulled out a dagger, and it almost slipped from his hand. His own face was turning purple, and he was losing focus. He slit his brother's throat with a shaky hand. He dropped the dagger, trying to breathe, but his brother's grip remained tight.

Arya reached for the nearest torch. "Get off him!"

Hazy, The Hound looked at her, and his eyes widened at the sight of the flames. When he couldn't wrench himself from his brother's vise-like grip, she picked up another sword from the ground and sliced his hand off. The Hound swayed, then scurried away, clawing at the hand around his throat. Arya touched the torch to The Mountain's head, and his body erupted into flames.

Once his body stopped moving, Arya went over to The Hound. His neck was bruised and he had multiple lacerations that were bleeding profusely. "Finally the cunt's dead," he rasped. He coughed, spitting up some blood and spraying a few drops in Arya's face. She paid no mind, assessing his damage. "Stop," he said, and she looked up. "Just don't leave me to die again." He pleaded to her with his eyes. They both knew he hadn't much longer.

Arya nodded and grabbed the dagger. She cradled his head with one hand, looked him in the eye, and shoved the knife into his temple, killing him instantly. She gently laid him down, feeling an odd sensation in her gut. She had actually become somewhat fond of him as a mentor. Leaving the bodies, she went back down the stairs to join the others.


	3. Conclusion

**A/N: Thank you all for sticking with me even though this is VERY last minute lol Here is the conclusion as I see it prior to the last two episodes.**

Most of the remaining Golden Company surrendered. Those who didn't were killed. The Dothraki annihilated the Lannister guards. Jon and his forces were entering King's Landing, declaring the war over. The citizens were assured they would be better off with their new Queen.

Daenerys entered the Red Keep, her new set of dragons flying overhead. She walked slow, greeting the surviving Dothraki, surveying the halls filled with dead Lannister guards. Though she had never been there before, she let her feet guide her towards the throne room.

When she entered the cavernous room, the first thing she noticed was the Iron Throne, empty. As if it was waiting for her to claim it. Her heart jumped into her throat. Her dreams had come true! Feet away was the seat destined for her.

"My Queen," came a voice from behind her.

She turned and saw Jon. Her pulse picked up. "What are you doing here?"

"You're unguarded," he said.

"The Lannisters are all dead. It's time for me to claim what's rightfully mine."

Jon bowed, then searched the fallen guards, kicking them to be sure they were dead. Dany was reckless coming in here without protection, without knowing for sure that every Lannister guard was dead as dust. It was reckless.

Daenerys couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. But how could it be? She had dragons again, Jon was devoted to her, and the throne was right in front of her. She turned her back on Jon and ascended the stairs. She reached out to touch the arm, when she felt a sharp pain in her back. She yelped in pain and dropped to her knees.

When she looked down, an arrow tip was protruding from her chest, crimson blood blooming from the wound. She was astounded and looked over her shoulder.

"Dany!" Jon stomped on a guard's head, the one who had shot her with a small crossbow as his last act of heroism. He ran to his Queen. "Dany, are you alright?"

She tried to speak, but she was still in shock. The arrow was wedged in her lung. Jon cradled her in his arms. She didn't look well at all, but he didn't want to lose his Queen. He ripped off his cloak and pressed it against her chest, trying to staunch the blood flow. "You'll be alright."

Because of the commotion, those within ear range came into the throne room, Varys, Tyrion and Greyworm. They all stopped short at the scene. Recovering quickly, Greyworm ran to her side.

Tyrion looked at Varys. "Was this your doing?" he whispered.

"I did nothing," he replied cryptically. "I've been waiting for the all clear."

Tyrion glared at him. Perhaps he was innocent, but that didn't mean the killer wasn't one of his little birds. He ran up to Daenerys.

The three men huddled around her as her blood dripped onto the stairs.

"The Seven Kingdoms are yours, My Queen," Jon said, trying to give her hope.

"No," she choked out. "They're yours."

"What?" he said. Even Tyrion looked shocked.

"Take the throne," she said. "I made it this far. Claim the throne, ride my dragons, rule the realm...Aegon Targaryen." Tyrion and Greyworm looked at Jon, astounded at Daenerys' declaration.

"I don't want it," Jon insisted. "You're the one who deserves it. You've worked so hard. It's been your dream."

"I'm dying, Jon. If I can't sit on the Iron Throne..." Her words caught in her throat, partly from the pain, and partly from the oncoming tears. "I can't think of anyone better suited to it than you. You'll be a good King."

"Dany..." Tears slipped down his cheeks and onto her face.

She smiled. "I love you. Go."

Varys appeared behind Jon. "Take your seat, My King."

Jon passed Daenerys to Greyworm, and he stepped up to the throne. He had never actually seen it before, large and imposing, swords sticking out of the back like peacock feathers. He didn't want the power or the responsibility. He looked back at his dying Queen, who encouraged him with a nod of her head. He lowered himself onto the Iron Throne and stared out at the hall.

From her position in Greyworm's arms, she said, "Follow him as you followed me."

"If that is your command."

"It is."

Tryion grabbed her hand. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she said squeezing his hand. "Serve him well."

She looked up at Jon, looking fierce and noble in the chair that was theirs by right. She had wanted it so bad, it was the throne or death for her. Unfortunately, Death had come. She hadn't lied. If she couldn't sit on the Iron Throne, she wanted it to be Aegon's. She knew he would be able to break the wheel. She kept her eyes locked on him, admiring the dark hair falling into his sad eyes, until her world went black.

_As much as I didn't want to kill Dany, I think everyone has served their purpose. Let me know what you think of my predictions and check my other stuff out if you want more!_


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